


The Nose Knows

by blackchaps



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Schmoop, True Love, Vomiting, sniffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackchaps/pseuds/blackchaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's in trouble, and Blair smells amazing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nose Knows

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to ozsaur for the help with Naomi and giving this a read through! I was bored and wrote in this fandom for no reason at all. Please don't think I'll write more.

&&&&&&

Working all the time didn't make him a hermit, damn it. He watched the news, and anyway, every cop in America had been briefed, just in case another crazy chick with super powers started kidnapping random people. They'd been reassured that she was a genetic mutation that never (rarely) showed up and not to worry.

And then his eyesight changed. Better. So much better. He rubbed his face with his hands and considered asking Simon for the day off. The sunglasses helped dim the world, but he could still see out the window and down ten blocks if he focused even a little.

Drawing the conclusion that he was a mutant freak was remarkably easy. He'd always been one of the lucky ones, if by luck you meant _bad._ Stifling a groan, he gave up on the paperwork - the letters kept jumping around - and went to find some coffee that wasn't burned to the bottom of the pot. It took awhile.

He jerked himself out of bed and barely made it to the tub before throwing up violently. Some part of his brain insisted he use the toilet, but his nose wasn't going to let that happen. The tub, at least, only smelled of Comet, hair, shampoo, and… he threw up violently again. And again. His apartment reeked of garbage, and his pajamas weren't any better, stinking of sweat. He stripped naked, throwing them away violently.

When the retching slowed, he crawled to his guest room where only dust clogged his nostrils. At least he couldn't smell the sex he'd had two weeks ago, or the dirty laundry, or his own piss drops on the floor of the bathroom.

He dry-heaved again and trembled. Very clearly, he could see every fiber in the carpet, and now his nose could smell everything that had ever been spilled, dropped, and rotted.

"Shit," he snarled, not stupid, knowing what it meant. Two senses now were super-enhanced, out of control. The thought of dealing with two of them made him want to kill himself.

&&&&&&

"You look like hell, Ellison."

"Thanks." Jim made sure his trash can was close and breathed through his mouth, considering toilet paper nose plugs, but the thought of going in the restroom was unbearable.

Simon didn't quit, following after him. "You're sick. Go home."

"I can do a little paperwork." Jim wasn't up to a full-blown argument about it.

Right then, someone paraded by the door with a bag of evidence that wasn't sealed very tightly. The janitor was going to be angry at him, but at least he hit the trash can. The thought of bleach and cleansers made him retch again.

"Okay, we're done here!" Simon hauled Jim up to his feet and got him moving towards the door. Jim managed not to barf on him, and the semi-fresh air of the city felt good against his sweating forehead. The horrible smell of it nearly killed him, but he straightened his spine, leaned against the building, and took several deep breaths.

"I'll live," Jim said, doubting it and not sure he wanted to live like this.

"Where's your car?" Simon looked up the street. "I'll drive you home."

"I walked." Jim wasn't telling him about the old French fries, stale coffee, and motor oil smells that had forced him from his vehicle to vomit in the street. "I'll walk home, but I'll be in tomorrow."

"No, you won't." Simon shook his head. "Take the rest of the week. Get well. We're light on cases and you have more sick time built up than anyone in the department!"

"I'll call you a cab."

"God, no." Jim pushed away from the wall and started for home. He'd call and argue his case tomorrow when the vomiting stopped. If it stopped. If it ever stopped, and he'd make a wide detour around the butcher shop this time. Simon shouted after him, but Jim's ears were blessedly normal, and it faded after a block or two. Walking helped. The smells seemed to dissipate if he kept moving. The thought of working a crime scene again made him cringe, and he knew he was screwed.

Mutated freaks didn't get to be cops. That woman, Alex something, she'd gone nuts, probably from the stink, and now it was his turn. Great. Just great. The wind shifted, and he slumped down on a bench, but suddenly his nose took over his body.

A whiff on the wind, something smelled fantastic. Amazing. Amidst all the shit and garbage of the city was a smell so enticing, so incredible that he licked his lips. Raising his head to keep the scent, he took off after it. He'd bathe in it. Keep it with him forever. Whatever it was, it was going home with him.

&&&&&&

Trudging across the quad, Blair hated the entire educational system in America by the time he reached his tiny office (stolen supply closet), tossed down his pile of books, and flopped in his squeaky chair. Getting his thesis done was going to be impossible if they didn't stop forcing him to teach everyone's classes! Just once, he'd appreciate the professors pulling their own weight on the class schedule.

No one on this campus even had a clue how hard it was to find information on sentinels, much less the time involvement that it took. He was never going to make much progress if he forced to teach Intro to Anthropology (two sections) every semester.

The door flew open, and every thought in Blair's head drained away. He should've screamed but his throat locked up from fear. He managed a squeaky breath. "Um, hi?"

The caveman growled at him, actually growled. Blair put the wall to his back and held up his hands. "Can we discuss this first? Did I give you an F? Look, I know Anderson is an asshole, but I'm just his TA!"

Quick, like a cat, the huge man leapt over the desk and pinned Blair against the wall. "You smell good." He buried his face in Blair's neck and hair, panting with his mouth open. "So good."

"Well, this is intimate." Blair held perfectly still, afraid to even twitch. "I don't usually put out on the first date."

The large guy nibbled him gently. "You taste really good too."

"I'm complimented, really." Blair put his hands on the man's chest and pushed. Nothing. It was like being trapped between two brick walls. "Are you done? Because I have a class to teach."

Jerking away, the guy frowned and then tilted his head. "Where am I?"

"My office." Blair brushed off his shirt and some slobber. "I'm going to call the police now, okay?" His eyes drifted down to the shiny gold badge on the guy's belt. "Oh, never mind. They're here. Hey, would you arrest yourself for assault, please?"

"Damn, I'm just like her." The guy stumbled for the door, bumping into the desk and making it slide. "No wonder she went insane."

Blair stared after him for a long minute, processing that. Then he bolted after him, grabbing him by the arm. "Wait! Who, her?"

The guy groaned. "Go away! You smell delicious! I'll do something stupid like her if you don't go far away!"

"I'll run in a second. First, tell me. What woman are you talking about?" Blair's heart was in his throat, and this wasn't fear. It was the barest of hopes.

Shuddering, the guy put his hand over his nose. "Alex whatever. The woman. You should have me arrested!"

"Later." Blair took a very deep breath, almost refusing to believe. "I smell good? Super good?"

"Oh, yeah." The guy reached again, fingers twitching, before flinging himself the other direction. 

"Go away!"

Blair never, or rarely, did what he was told. "Anything else weird going on?"

Stopping, the guy stared at him. "I can see every pore on your face."

"Gross." Blair nearly sat down on the floor from sheer giddiness. "How ironic is it that I've been looking everywhere for you, and you find me because I smell like bacon?

"Are you okay?" Their bodies were plastered together again, and Blair might've been holding on tightly also. He couldn't let this cop get away. Not before he'd run extensive tests on him and written five or six papers and finished his thesis. "We should go somewhere and talk."

"I'd follow you anywhere." The guy sounded sorta drunk, or high, or both.

"That's kinda scary, but we'll work with it." But Blair wasn't scared now, not at all. He didn't know where this would all lead, but he was more than willing to figure it out along the way.

&&&&&&

Jim threw up before he could even get his dick out of his boxers to piss, completely shocked when some guy with hippie hair materialized out of nowhere and put a wet washcloth on the back of his neck. "Who the hell are you?" But the question didn't stop him from taking the guy's scent deep and wallowing in it. 

"Damn, you smell good."

"You've mentioned that a number of times, and I'm the guy you snatched out of his office and insisted spend the night. I left the bed to piss and you started puking." The hair guy sounded like he was telling the truth, but it wasn't possible. Jim wouldn't do that; just take someone off the street. The thought horrified him, but the scent calmed his stomach, and he got to his feet, towering over the other man.

"I don't know you," Jim said, worried and suspicious.

The guy nodded. "We never did get around to names. You dragged me here and then fell asleep." 

He stuck out his hand. "Blair Sandburg. You grabbed me up over at the university."

Jim wasn't touching him until he'd washed his hands. He cringed. "Why didn't you have me arrested?" he demanded.

"You're a cop." Sandburg - Blair - whoever - slowly lowered his hand. "Who are you again?"

Ignoring the sarcasm, Jim made it to the sink and washed his hands thoroughly, even brushing his teeth. 

After scrubbing his face with the towel, he held out his hand. "Jim Ellison, and I'm sorry. I don't remember doing it, but I guess I kidnapped you."

Blair's mouth dropped open, and he didn't turn loose of Jim's hand. "I went willingly after I found out about the smells and your sight. Man, you have no idea how glad I am to meet you!"

Jim blinked, trying to understand. "You're not angry?"

"Well, I was scared at first, but all you did was sniff me, drool a little, and then try to run away. It was my idea to come here. You see," Blair paused, grinning, "I've been looking for you. Well, one of you. A sentinel, that is. And there you were, busting down my door!"

Jim's head began to ache from the sheer enthusiasm. He stared down at their interlocked hands and wondered what the hell he was doing and why the touch was… okay. He was not a touchy-feely kind of guy, but he didn't want to let go. Not just yet. In a minute, and then he'd throw this Sandburg guy out.

"Are you speechless? Tired? Hungry?" Blair's eyes shined, and he grinned a mouthful of teeth.

"Please stop being so happy." Jim managed to get his hand back. "I need a shower. You… just… go away."

Slowly, Blair nodded. "You sure about that?"

"Positive." Jim steered him out the door, shut it, leaned against it, and took a deep breath. He counted the seconds and at five, the disgusting smells of the bathroom crept back over him. 

Cursing, he bolted after the smelly hippie. Blair turned on the stairs and frowned. Jim shrugged, feeling sheepish, and took him by the wrist. "I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?"

Blair nodded. "You so are, man."

Jim only managed the shower because his hippie stood right outside the curtain. He snapped off the water with a vicious twist but didn't have the heart to protest the towel that was handed inside. 

Scrubbing his hair, he mumbled, "I have to get over this. I'm sure this guy has a life."

The guy chuckled. "From now on, you are my life. Well, until I graduate. I made a few calls and got someone to cover my classes today." He sounded very smug. "This is gonna be great."

Furious, Jim slapped the curtain back. "No, it's not! I can't function! And I can't go to work with a hippie around my neck!"

Blair flinched around the eyes. "Sorry! I lost sight of the fact that you've been vomiting! Get dry. We'll go downstairs and eat. You'll feel better after that."

Doubting it, Jim wrapped the towel around his waist and headed for his closet. One deep breath, and the smell of his shoes sent him back to pull Blair closer.

"Anyway, I'm not a hippie. Now, my mom? She qualifies." Blair leaned against the side of the closet, crossing his arms, talking a mile a minute. "I've never even been arrested for protesting anything, not even by the campus police. So tell me what's happening with your senses. I want all the details."

Tugging on a shirt, Jim shot him a glare. "No."

"Then I'm leaving." Blair started for the door, forcing Jim to gag. Jim clenched his jaw, refusing to dash after him. This was nothing but blackmail, and his stomach lurched. Blair paused. "You have to tell me what's going on, so I can help."

"I don't need help," Jim ground out. His body forced him to take two steps closer to him. Almost close enough to drive the worst of the stench away. He leaned. "I'll pay you whatever you want. Just… stay close."

Shaking his head, Blair opened the door like he might leave. "No. As far as I'm concerned, you can spend the rest of your life puking, or following me from class to class. If you want me in _your_ life, I get answers. All the answers." He took two steps out into the hallway.

Dropping to his knees from nausea, Jim hated him. He wasn't going to say anything to a stranger, no damn way. He fell flat, stomach heaving futilely, but he'd been hurt, injured before, and this was nothing. Nothing. He curled around himself, praying that he wasn't whining.

"Geez, man. Lay on the guilt! And I thought my mom was bad!" Blair dropped down next to him and stroked his hand through Jim's hair. "I guess I'm in trouble here too, because I'm not a big enough jerk to walk away and leave you in your puke."

"I hate you," Jim whispered, but Blair's scent calmed him, helped him breathe. "I want my life back."

Blair laughed. "I'm thinking that should be my line."

&&&&&&

It didn't take long to figure out exactly how far he could step away before Jim's face turned green. Five feet, tops. Even that was pushing it. Blair wasn't cruel enough to experiment too much with it, but it was fascinating.

"So, Jim, you're a cop? Here in Cascade?" Blair wanted information, and he wanted it now, but he could tell by the stubborn set of Jim's jaw as he scrambled the eggs that it wasn't going to be easy to get it.

"Major crimes unit." Jim didn't even look at him. "I'm a detective."

Blair let that settle, watching him. "You look like a poster boy for the Army." He stepped to the fridge and started rummaging for some fruit or something healthy. Jim didn't answer in words, but he did sorta grunt. Blair took a shot in the dark. "SEAL? Ranger? Special Ops? Something else crazy and dangerous?"

"There's sausage in the freezer," Jim said.

"That stuff will kill ya." Blair found a few apples and sliced them without stepping out of Jim's safety zone. "Are those organic eggs?"

"You really are a hippie, aren't you?" Jim shot him a look, nostrils flaring. Blair chewed an apple slice and tossed Jim one. Jim ate it without complaining but rounded his shoulders and looked miserable. Blair was sure if Jim had known how he looked, he'd have been mortified.

Searching for some way to make him feel better, Blair got out the sausage. "No, I'm not, but forget that and tell me about your senses."

Jim gave him a hard look. "Sight and smell are off the charts. That's it."

Managing not to roll his eyes at the brief report, Blair crunched some more apple. "Have you tried to…?" He searched for a good description. "Dial it down? Make it less? Turn off your engine?"

"Of course I have!" Jim slammed a skillet down and threw in the pre-cooked sausage links to heat up. "I'm not an idiot!"

"Whoa." Blair put up his hands, a little alarmed. "Do not throw sausages at me!" He forced himself to grin, trying to look harmless. He wasn't scared, not really, but the cop had hands as big as ham hocks. For a split second, Jim smiled in return, and Blair lost his train of thought. Sure, he liked women, but right there, in front of him was a very handsome man who'd sucked on his neck earlier.

Turning back to the stove, Blair saw Jim struggle to take deep breaths, control himself. That was a good first step, and Blair had to ask the question, "Ever meditate before?"

"No." Jim didn't shout the answer at him, which was progress. "I hate my life enough without that."

Blair nodded, pretty sure that cops had a rule against anything that might be considered New Age. After they ate, they'd get started, no matter what Jim said, and Blair had a feeling that the big guy would try anything to get his senses under control. When the food was gone, he put his hand on Jim's forearm with a very light touch.

"Show me around. We need a quiet room."

Jim stared down at Blair's hand. "I'm not doing any of that hippie crap. Not now, not ever."

Frustrated, Blair took his plate to the sink, pushing the boundaries of Jim's control. "If you don't want help, I don't know what you expect from me. I'm not your new pet dog."

"The hair says otherwise," Jim drawled with perfect sarcasm, bringing his own plate to the sink.

"Funny." Blair edged away and crossed his arms. "You can't take me to work, and you can't work without me. Are we going to be hermits together?" He slathered on his own brand of sarcasm to match Jim's. "I'm the foremost, hell, I'm the only expert on sentinels, and if you'll let me, I can help you find some control!"

The look on Jim's face put mules to shame. "You smell good. Other than that, I know nothing about you, and I can't trust you with anything."

"Man, it's like we were married by our parents." Blair deliberately walked to the sofa and flopped down. When he'd let the Neanderthal drag him off, he'd assumed they'd work on the problem together. Now it seemed all Jim wanted was a human air freshener. "So if you investigate me, will you trust me to help?"

"I don't…" Jim stood across from him, not sitting in any of the available chairs. "Probably not."

"At least you're honest." Blair considered the problem from another angle. "You trust me enough to sleep with me."

"I don't remember that," Jim said, frowning deeply and still refusing to sit. "You do smell good."

"Enough with that!" Irritated, Blair launched himself up and began to pace. "I think you trust me. On some sort of primal level, you must. Now all I'm asking you to do is sit down and focus, not chant mumbo-jumbo and burn incense!"

Jim sank down to the floor, put his hands on his temples, and rubbed. "Why didn't you say so? Sit down before I puke!"

Shaking his hands in the air out of frustration, Blair dropped to sit cross-legged in front of him, making sure their knees touched, trying to ground him. "You're making me crazy, man."

Eyes very wild, Jim stared at him. "You don't have to yell. I'm right here."

Blair whispered so softly that air barely passed over his vocal cords. "Hearing too?"

"Damn it." Jim swallowed hard, looking away and then back fast. "Can you help me?"

"Yeah. I will. Somehow."

&&&&&&

The world couldn't get any louder, but at least it didn't smell as bad. Shutting his eyes helped, but Jim still felt awash in stimuli. He couldn't believe he'd just begged for help from a perfect stranger. Shame made him want to find a foxhole and never peek out.

Eyesight, smell, hearing: all of them were bonkers now, and he just knew this wasn't the end of it. That was abruptly confirmed when the hippie put his hand on Jim's forearm. The gentle touch felt like someone had put a hot brand on him.

"Jim? Jim? Talk to me, man."

The words thundered, the sun coming through the blinds made his world golden even though his eyes were shut, the smell of Blair overpowered, and the touch almost hurt. Jim opened his mouth to claim he was fine and air hit his tongue. That was the only thing that it could be, and it was fairly disgusting. The air tasted like sweat, dirty carpet, and lingering grease from sausage. He shut his mouth fast and breathed through his nose.

Jerking his arm away from the still painful touch, Jim curled into a ball and wished he had the strength to crawl to his gun. He couldn't hear his own breath any longer, and where he'd thought he might fly to pieces, his life began to narrow. His focus turned inward, and he no longer knew if he were still on the floor, or even on the planet Earth.

For a blink, his sight came into sharp focus, and he saw Simon's furious face, but that wasn't possible. Another moment and he heard shouting, so loud he nearly threw up, and it all shifted to hands that hurt him, hurt so painful he convulsed. And it was gone, and all he could smell was his hippie. His hippie. His friend? Someone who cared? He jerked as he realized the smell was growing dimmer and dimmer.

It was gone, and he screamed for the one second that he could think clearly enough to know what was coming at him.

Black. It ate him.

&&&&&&

His head connected with the roof of the car hard enough to make him see stars, but he took a deep breath and started yelling again.

"I didn't do anything! He needs me! You idiots!"

One of them yanked open a back door and threw him inside. They didn't answer him, but their obvious anger answered the question of whether they were listening. The cuffs dug into his wrists, and Blair kicked the door futilely.

"Damn it! You can't do this!"

No one heard him. They'd thrown him in a squad car to rot while Jim suffered. Blair had never seen suffering like that. He hadn't even had a chance to try to help him before the black cop was hauling him away, yelling about assault and burglary and promising that Blair would never see the sunshine again.

"Damn it!" Blair gave the door one last hard kick and then stopped fighting. He was pretty sure they already thought he was a criminal, no reason to add 'insane' to the list of charges. "Poor Jim," he muttered, unable to believe what he'd seen.

All of Jim's senses had... blossomed, and the pain of it must have been incredible. Blair struggled up, seeing them loading someone in an ambulance. Jim. He wasn't moving, not at all. "Damn."

Two uniforms got in the car, and Blair was tempted to to waste oxygen yelling at them. "Is he okay?" he asked, instead trying for a reasonable tone.

"Shut up," the driver said.

"Are you going to read me my Miranda rights? I do have rights."

The cop in the passenger side glared. "You assaulted a detective. You got nothing."

"I did not! I was trying to help!" Blair could tell they had made up their minds, but he wasn't going to stop protesting his innocence.

Hours later, he gave up, sitting shackled to a chair, facing a two-way mirror. They'd interviewed him over and over again, no food, no water, and no hope of ever getting it through their thick skulls that he'd been trying to help.

"Last chance, Sandburg. What the hell did you do to him?" The detective slapped the table, scowling. "If he dies, I will personally shove the needle in your arm!"

"I want a lawyer," Blair said, feeling as if he'd failed an important exam. "Now. If you're not going to charge me, I'm leaving." He rattled his chains. "Now. Do you hear me? Do you understand me? I want a lawyer!"

The door slammed behind the cop, and Blair wondered again who was behind the mirror. "A lawyer! Now!"

As sorry as he was feeling for himself, Blair hoped that Jim was okay, or at least not in real danger of dying. His brain had probably over-loaded from all the stimuli, but he was strong, stubborn, so he'd recover. Sighing, Blair squirmed in his chair until he could get his feet up. He shoved the table over with a bang and started yelling again.

If they thought Blair Sandburg was going quietly, they had another think coming.

&&&&&&

Flailing upright, Jim clenched his jaw against the scream that wanted out. He didn't know how long he'd been in this bed, and he didn't know what time it was, or even what month it was. All he knew, for sure, was that something essential was missing.

Something he needed desperately.

With all his strength, he managed to get off the gurney, taking wire and cables with him. Alarms sounded, he fell to the floor and the smell of the disinfectant made him gag. So bright, so stinky, so painful to live, and people grabbed him. Again.

"No!"

A nurse who reeked of death restrained him, and all he could think was to fight.

&&&&&&

"Judge, we're asking for remand."

Blair wanted to bang his head on the table. Ten days. It'd taken them ten days to get him in front of a judge. His civil rights had been violated so many times that he'd stopped counting. His lawyer gave him a steady look that meant to stay quiet.

"My client is clearly not a threat to society. He has roots in this community, teaches at a local college, and has never been in trouble with the law. Remand is punitive."

The judge looked Blair over for the tenth time. "The charge is the attempted murder of a police detective. I'm taking this very seriously."

"Cascade lost one of its finest because of Blair Sandburg. He refuses to cooperate with us, and we strongly--"

"Want to continue to illegally interrogate him?" Blair's lawyer wasn't half-bad. "He was denied access to a lawyer and held without charges for two days. This is still America!"

The judge pointed his gavel at the assistant district attorney. "You better have your ducks in a row when he goes to trial!" He glared at them all. "Bail is set at five hundred thousand."

"Holy shit," Blair breathed. He was never getting out of jail. He lived in a rundown warehouse and slept in his office some nights. An office that he hoped was still there, not turned back into a janitor's closet. "I'm a grad student!"

The judge banged his gavel. "If Mr. Sandburg can't post bail, he's welcome to enjoy our hospitality."

"Good heavens, Blair, what have the pigs done to you?"

Cringing, Blair turned. "Hello, Mother."

&&&&&&&

"You have to wake up, Jim."

"He's been in a coma for five days."

"We can't help him. I recommend you move him to a long-term care facility."

"Jim! You gotta wake up!"

He listened, desperately seeking some sign, but there was nothing. No sight, no sound, no smell, and he ached from touches he hated.

"Did he groan?"

&&&&&&

"Yes, Mother, the university fired me, and you can't blame them since I might be spending the next twenty years in prison!" Blair slumped down in his only chair, wishing his mother wouldn't loom over him like the angel of death. "Yes! I'll be broke soon and living on the street! Are you happy?"

"Blair!" She managed a wealth of meaning in that one name, and he slunk lower. She huffed out an annoyed breath. "This place is no better than the street in any case. Now, tell me, what do the pigs think you did?"

"I didn't do anything, and pigs is so seventies!" Blair rubbed his face hard and couldn't believe he had to go through this again. "The guy needed help. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time!" But that was a lie. He'd been exactly in the right place to prove all his theories. He'd had plenty of time in lockup to go over everything they'd done and said.

Jim must've suffered some sort of a collapse from having all his sense come into play at once.

Blair didn't know how, or why, but none of that mattered. What mattered was finding where they'd stashed Jim and seeing what condition he was in, and figuring out how to fix it. There had to be a way to help him. None of this would've happened if that cop hadn't shown up out of the blue. The guy hadn't been willing to listen.

"Blair?"

"I gotta find him." Blair surged to his feet and caught a whiff of his armpits. "After a shower."

After the fastest shower of his life, Blair threw on some clean clothes, grabbed his stash of backup cash, and nearly ran his mother over. "I have to go."

"Wait a minute, young man, we need to discuss this! Make a plan!" She crinkled her brow. "I could make a few calls. Organize a protest."

"Absolutely not." Blair wrapped his arm around her and hustled her out to the street. As usual, it took forever to find a cab, and he resolutely refused to listen to his mother about civil rights, sit-ins, and taking action for even a second. The cabbie looked at them quizzically, and Blair snapped, "Your hotel, Naomi?"

"Oh, the Ramada, of course." She smiled, flouncing onto the seat and pulling Blair close to her. "Seriously, Blair, you're in trouble. Let me help."

Blair rubbed his face and brushed his wet hair back with his hands. She handed him a pony-tail, and he pulled the mess into a semblance of order. "I can fix this, Mom. I just need to see him."

"Now, that is ridiculous!" Naomi waved her hands. "He's a cop! A pig! Part of the problem!"

"This one time, trust me." Blair rifled through her purse, paid the cabbie, and helped her out to the sidewalk. "I have to go. Stay here. I'll call."

Naomi frowned, grabbing him by the arm. "I can't bail you out again. Please, think, make a good decision."

Nodding, he did his best to look earnest. "I am. I will." He couldn't take the time to explain that this was the moment in his life that he'd been waiting for, and he wasn't going to back off or turn away from Jim.

Jim needed help, and that was Blair. He took a deep breath. "I'll call."

"You better." She sighed, shaking her head, but turned to go inside. He didn't stop her. He bounced on his toes a couple of times to psych himself up. He had a cop to find.

&&&&&&

He could hear them. Didn't they know he could hear them? They wouldn't shut up, yammering on about things that he didn't care about all day long.

He could smell them, taste them, and the disgust never faded. Didn't they wash?

They needed to stop touching him. Stop. Just. Stop.

Opening his eyes, he stared at the pinholes in the ceiling. Nothing to see. At least he couldn't see them.

"His eyes are open again. It's so creepy."

"Shut up, Stan, and change his pillow case."

&&&&&&&

A friend of a friend of a friend, and Blair was careful to keep his name out of it. The cop culture was insular, but they loved to gossip at local coffee shops. By the time the news got back to him, his feet hurt from pacing and the roots of his hair hurt from tugging on it.

"You're sure? Positive? No mistakes?" Blair nearly shouted into the phone. "And the cops don't know I was asking?"

The answers reassured him and drove him nearly crazy. It was bad, so bad, and Jim need him right now. Not in the morning. Now. Blair needed a plan, and he needed help. It was time to call in the big guns. The one person who truly owed Blair more than ten favors.

His advisor.

Dressing the part was easy enough, and his credentials still looked official. Very few people knew he'd been terminated, and this sort of thing happened all the time, nothing at all strange about it.

If his advisor did his job right, it should be easy, Blair wouldn't have any trouble at all. He checked his look in the mirror, making sure he was scholarly, and took a deep breath. No trouble at all. The thought didn't reassure him. Gathering the supplies he'd need, he called a cab and went out to wait.

The ride took forever, but not as long as the walk up to the front desk where security waited for him. The nursing home was more like a tomb than a place where people lived, and Blair tamped down on his urge to sneak, trying for confident, assured.

"Yeah, I got a call." The night clerk yawned into his fist, interrupting Blair's prepared speech. "I'll need to see some I.D., sign you in, and then, as long as you don't cause any trouble, you can have the run of the place. Most of these old people sleep like the dead." He chuckled.

Blair made sure not to wince. "Mostly, a quick in and out, get the info my advisor wants. I may have to sit with a few of them." He tried to sound very bored. "I keep asking myself why we couldn't get this information during the day!"

"Because they're awake?" The guy grinned. "Keep the boss happy, I always say."

"Not always easy, man." They shared a laugh, and five minutes later, Blair walked through a creepily silent communal area – TV and all. He nodded at another nurse on duty, trying for casual and brandishing his very important clipboard. She returned his nod with a tentative smile, and he ducked his head.

Taking a deep breath, he went into the first room, assaulted by the smell of chemicals and piss. It made him flinch, and he couldn't believe that Jim was alive at all in this place. It hadn't been too bad out in the commons, but this room was stifling. One glance, and he counted to sixty before going out, making a note on his clipboard and putting on his best academic face.

Now the nurse looked satisfied, and Blair eased out a breath of relief, beginning his search in earnest.

&&&&&&

A sound caught the edges of his mind, and he didn't want to listen, but it danced closer, enticing him to breathe to its rhythm. Something – someone – was coming, and for once, it was good. It was good.

&&&&&&

Screaming with frustration would definitely blow his cover, but Blair was feeling it. So many doors, so many beds full of people who weren't Jim. It would've been impossible to explain his rising anxiety level. He just knew in his gut that he needed to hurry, hurry, and he no longer cared that it didn't make sense.

Another door, another door, another door, and with his hand on the next handle, he paused, hearing a strange noise from inside. That propelled him inward, and the sight made him groan from disgust. He shouldn't have wanted to touch, but Jim, eyes wide, panting, gown hanging half off fell against him.

"Jim," Blair gasped, trying to hold him, still heavy even with ribs showing.

Jim dragged him to the floor, somehow scooting them to a corner. Blair found himself tucked around and over, with Jim's face buried in Blair's neck. "You came," Jim whispered, voice broken.

"I was in jail," Blair said, feeling like he had to defend himself. "For days!"

A raw chuckle, but Jim didn't raise his head. "Everything was so... much."

"I know. I'm sorry." Blair held him closer. "So sorry." He rubbed every inch of Jim's body that he could reach, shoving off the excuse for a gown. Even by the small amount of light, Blair could see rashes dotting Jim's back. "What are we going to do?" he asked, more to himself than the man wrapped around him.

"Can we go somewhere clean and quiet?" Jim nuzzled him. "Where no one will touch me?"

"We gotta get out of here." Blair had no idea how. "You have clothes?"

"No." Jim took a very deep breath. "Don't leave me. I know I'm weak, stupid, but I can't--"

"Shut up," Blair interrupted him. "Just shut up, man. We'll figure this out. We just need to think and find you some boxers." He felt Jim's laughter.

"I heard your heartbeat coming down the hall." Jim's voice was getting stronger. He gave Blair a small shake. "Where am I?"

"In a nursing home." Blair kept it short. "Even for me, it smells pretty bad in here."

Jim managed to get closer, and Blair kept rubbing him, trying to will away the rashes and bruises. They stopped talking, concentrating on touching and breathing, and the urgency in Blair's guts eased away. He'd gotten here in time. Jim was safe, or at least not hurting too badly. They'd figure out the rest, somehow, and maybe Blair wouldn't have to go to jail this time.

&&&&&&

Rubbing his check against Blair's hairy head, Jim felt the strength start to return to his body. A tiny part of him whispered that he had no business cuddling with another man, but he stomped on the thought. There was nothing sexual about this. This was about him regaining his sanity, nothing else. He let out a breathy groan as Blair continued to rub and stroke him.

Not sexual. Not yet.

Blair's heartbeat soothed away the aches and pains, and Jim felt their breaths begin to match up. Everything about this was right, and in a blink, he understood to the depths of his soul why that Alex girl had kidnapped that man. She'd found a place to rest, just like Jim, and she'd been unwilling to give it up.

The thought of losing Blair made Jim tightened his grip and growl. Blair shushed him with touches, and Jim tugged off the stupid blazer, needing to touch skin. He rucked up Blair's shirt and put his hand flat on Blair's stomach.

"That's right. Keep breathing. Shut your eyes, smell me. Ground yourself in me, man. Not some chant, or candle, or ritual. Focus on me."

Jim liked the sound of that. No ridiculous mumbo-jumbo, just Blair, who smelled like Zest and other good things, even a nice floral perfume. "Perfume?"

"Oh, my mother bailed me out of jail." Blair dug his fingers into Jim's back, rubbing harder. "It was nice of her, actually."

"If she helped get you to me, I'm grateful." Jim meant that with every fiber of his being.

"Yeah, man, but wait until you meet the crazy hippie lady." Blair shifted, getting more comfortable. "Can you smell me, hear me, feel me? Only me. Open your eyes and see only me."

"Got it." Jim let the rest of the world fade away to nothing and healed his senses by indulging in Blair.

When Blair spoke again, he never even opened his mouth, but Jim heard him loud and clear.

"You know your stereo? Picture the knobs in your mind. Give each one a name. Sight. Sound. Touch. Hearing. Taste." Blair laughed softly. "Quit chewing my neck and dial it down, man. Dial it down. All of it. To the bottom."

Jim ran his hand up to Blair's heart, not wanting to lose the sound of it, but willing to try. He could do this He was an Army Ranger, and he never quit at anything. Not once.

"Okay, keep hearing high enough to hear my heartbeat." Blair batted at Jim's hand. "Easy!"

"You bet, Chief." Jim eased his hand back down to Blair's stomach, and in a burst the room blurred into recognizable shapes and colors . He took a deep breath, smelling the room, and it was bad, but not mind-numbingly awful. "I can do this."

"Of course, you can." Blair sounded slightly disgusted. "It's the only way to get out of this piss hole."

His hearing still up, Jim nudged at Blair. "Get up. Company is coming. That nurse I hate."

Blair scrambled, flinging the worthless gown at Jim, and he shrugged into it before going to the bed. Jim never let go of Blair's hand.

"Don't leave. I have to..." He swallowed hard, hating to sound mushy. "Hear your heart."

"I'll stay. I promise." Blair said under his breath, "Unless your cop friends drag me jail again."

Grinning like a wolf, Jim arranged the gown and the blanket, checking his 'stereo' twice. "Go fling open the door and proclaim a miracle. I have risen from the dead."

"Oh, man, you have a sense of drama." Blair rolled his eyes, slowly pulling his hand away. "You won't leave me?" The question was edged with a hint of worry as he slipped into his jacket and picked up his abandoned clipboard.

"Never," Jim promised, relieved to see belief shining in Blair's eyes. That made him think, and he dialed his eyesight even lower.

"Nurse! Nurse!" Blair's voice was pitched to exactly the right mix of disbelief and wonder. Jim grinned, feeling strong enough to take on the world.

As long as Blair stood with him.

&&&&&&

"Jim!"

Blair tried to fade right into the paint, shoving himself deeper into the corner when Captain Banks crashed through the door and threw himself at Jim.

Jim actually winced, and Blair mumbled, "Dial it down, man." He prayed to thirteen different gods that Jim could keep it together long enough to get them both out of here.

"You!"

Lifting his hand, Blair went for smug. "I did try to tell you."

"What the hell is going on here, Jim?" Banks spun right back to Jim, nearly jabbing him with a finger. "He assaulted you!"

A ragged grin on his face, Jim shook his head. "I collapsed. He was trying to help."

Banks looked disbelieving. He went off on a fifteen minute tirade, and Blair had to do something to help. He eased into the chair next to Jim's bed, close enough to touch if Jim got desperate. Jim gave him a fast look that said thanks, and they both took a deep breath.

"No, you're not arresting him again. You're going to have the charges dropped. He's my new roommate, and that's the end of it!" Jim's voice could've cut glass. Blair could see clearly the military training in leadership. Jim wasn't finished. "It's not negotiable."

Opening his mouth and then shutting it, Banks looked like he might pop a vein. He gave Blair a glare that should've killed him. "We'll discuss this further after we've gotten you home. I brought clothes." He pointed at a duffel bag near the door. "I fought them putting you here. Your ex-wife still has power of attorney."

"Blair, remind me to change that." Jim's posture was a little more relaxed, but he clearly meant that.

Banks moved fast, tossing the bag on the bed and then going to the door. He paused at the threshold. "Sandburg, you're not staying."

Blair narrowed his eyes and brushed his hair back with his hand. "Not your choice. Get used to it, man."

"Get out, Simon." Jim opened the bag and shook out a T-shirt as the door closed. "He may never trust me again after this."

"If he's your friend, which I doubt, he will." Blair didn't think much of the guy, but he would reluctantly admit, if pushed, that the situation had looked bad. "Hopefully those clothes won't give you another rash. Jim-friendly soap is a priority."

"No bleach. No Tide." Jim took a cautious sniff and then pulled it over his head. Blair looked away to be polite as Jim finished dressing, gasping when Jim pulled him close and hugged him. "Can I have a minute, Chief?"

"Get those charges dropped and you can have me surgically sewn to your back. Jail sucked, man." Blair huffed into Jim's wide chest. "You had it easy. Laying around in bed while pretty nurses hand-fed you grapes!"

Jim pushed him back enough to stare down at him in amazement. "Grapes? Easy?" He grabbed Blair around the head and gave him a noogie. "I guess hand feeding me is your job now."

Blair couldn't help but laugh, and they tussled without any real intent until a strident voice broke them apart.

"Can we go now?" Banks had one volume. Loud. "Does he have to come with us?"

"Yes. Get used to having the hippie around. I have." Jim grinned, and Blair slugged him.

It wasn't until they were in the car – he was in the back - driving across town that Blair processed the word 'roommate' and groaned. He hated moving, and he had a feeling that Jim was not going to be easy to live with, and the first time he saw Jim in his underwear, striding around the kitchen. Well, things were going to get interesting. He flashed back to their bodies wrapped together, and Jim's hand pressed to his stomach.

"Chief? You okay?"

Blair shook himself out of the regret that he'd had clothes on and focused on Jim's face. Taking a risk, he reached for Jim's shoulder and gave him a tiny pat. "I'm wondering how much rent you're going to charge. I'm unemployed, destitute, poor, even needy, and I think I have about fifteen dollars in my savings account." He took a breath, ready to go on at length, but Banks interrupted.

"He talk a lot?"

"All the time." Jim shifted enough to let one arm dangle into the back seat. Blair raised his knee, and the touch made Jim lick his lower lip. Blair wished he hadn't noticed. Living together was going to be hell, absolute heterosexual hell.

&&&&&&

His knees went out when he tried to get out of the car, and Jim had no idea how Blair moved fast enough to get a shoulder underneath him.

"I got you, man." Blair was stronger than he looked. "We gotta fatten you up. I can feel bones. Of course, if you do gain the weight, I won't be able to hold you up!"

Banks got Jim's other arm. "No work for a week, or two!"

Jim grunted for an answer, but it'd be sooner than that. A car horn blasted, and he flinched, nearly going down and taking them with him.

"Focus, Jim!" Blair's voice cut through the other noise, driving it all to a safe distance. Jim did nothing but listen to Blair's heartbeat until he was more or less dropped on his sofa. Blair put his hands on Jim's knees and leaned close. "You with us?"

"He needs to go to a hospital! This is crazy!" Simon sounded furious again, and Jim had to deal with it, make it go away.

It was hard to even open his eyes, but Jim did it. Simon swam into focus, and Jim caught him by the arm. "I'll be okay. I... just need... time."

Simon's eyes were wide. "To what? What's going on?" he demanded.

Telling him anything would land Jim in a psych ward, but he had to say something, reassure him. Jim tried to smile, desperately searching for something, anything. "You know I was a Ranger. In Peru. A mission went bad and--."

Blair made a shocked sound, interrupting. "You participated in the poison frog ceremony? Are you nuts? That can have long-lasting side effects!"

"I know that. Now." Jim had no idea what Blair was talking about, but he could see belief on Simon's face. "I'll come out of this. Again. Just give me some time."

Blair went to the kitchen, and Jim shut his mouth tight around a whimper. He did grunt in approval when Blair handed him a bottle of water. Jim drank it straight down, ignoring the slight metallic taste.

"Frogs?" Simon asked weakly. "Frogs?"

"Potent, man." Blair went off on a lecture about Peruvian tribal customs, broken down by region, interspersed with random comments about how he was never going to be able to finish his doctorate if they didn't stop making him teach undergraduate classes. He also kept raiding the fridge. Jim ate and drank everything given to him, finally curling up on the sofa and sighing as Blair draped a blanket over him. "Also? When can we get those charges dropped?"

"It isn't that easy," Simon whispered. "But, yeah, I suppose I owe you an apology."

"Damn right you do, man." Blair patted Jim on the shoulder, and sleep took Jim away. 

Waking up took effort, and he indulged in stretch after stretch, enjoying the simple fact that he was home. The steady thump of Blair's heart was a comfort, not that he'd ever mention it.

"Do a senses check." Blair sat down on the coffee table and took Jim's hand in his own. "Start with my heart and go from there."

Jim wanted to complain and protest that it wasn't necessary, and that he had everything under control, but sight, smell, and touch all assaulted him at once. He cried out incoherently, wanting to curl into a ball, but Blair wrapped around him, preventing it.

"My heart. My heart," Blair whispered. "Work from there. Come on. You can do this, man!"

It was the hardest thing Jim had ever done, fighting his own self into submission, and if Blair hadn't been there, it would've been impossible. Sweat broke out over his body, and he grabbed hold of Blair tighter than he'd ever held anything.

"One at a time, Jim. Shut your eyes and do it!" Blair's voice went a little high-pitched. "And stop squeezing me!"

A harsh laugh bubbled out of Jim's throat, and he forced himself to loosen his grip while tugging Blair completely down on top of him. He breathed, listening to the rhythm of his hippie, and when they were in synch, he managed a clear picture of his stereo. It looked like some kid had been shoving his senses up and down randomly.

"Sight?"

"Check," Jim whispered, feeling the change as he fixed the dial. "Why are these so screwed up?"

"You were asleep, out of control. At least, that's my guess." Blair soothed his hands down Jim's shoulders and arms. "Keep working at it and don't assume it'll stay put because you put it there. You're going to have to meditate, get conscious control, check and re-check all day long."

"Bleah." Jim hated the truth of that. "Any chance I'll outgrow this? Like an allergy?" He kept his voice low, making the sound manageable.

Blair actually laughed, and Jim, eyes shut, still managed to swat him on the ass. In that instant, Jim regretted it because the slick smell of arousal filled his nostrils. He wanted to slap himself, but it smelled so good, and he inhaled deeply, not even reaching for the knob with his mind.

"Are you even trying, or are you just enjoying me wiggling?" Blair asked in a low, throaty voice that cracked on the last word.

Opening his eyes, Jim stopped moving entirely. He eased in another breath. "If you want me to not touch you, just tell me. Tell me, and I'll never touch you again, not on purpose." He meant that, but it'd hurt. It'd hurt a lot. "Blair, tell me."

Shifting, Blair got them both sitting up before folding down next to him and bringing Jim's arm around him. "Oh, man, it doesn't bother me. We could both do this naked and I'd be fine, but I don't want you upset later when you realize I'm a guy and while I might smell good, that's about all you like about me."

Jim might've curled him closer. He considered his next words carefully. "I'm not holding the hippie thing against you," he teased. "And you saved me. That counts for something."

"Something big." Blair's eyes glinted. "I just get the feeling you're very heterosexual."

The touch dial squealed all the way to the top, and Jim responded by ripping off his T-shirt. "That's better. Now, what? You say I'm a great cop?"

After a quiet second, Blair laughed. "I'm sure you are." He pressed his hand to Jim's bare chest, and they both let out a small gasp. "How about a shower? Can you handle it?"

"Maybe." Jim put his hand on top of Blair's, and his stereo snapped into his mind's eye. All the knobs were on low, even smell, so he nudged up the sound to keep track of Blair's heartbeat. "Thanks for your help."

"This means I can't go home, right?" Blair smirked, obviously teasing him.

"Did you miss the roommate part? Does your hair get in the way of your ears?" Jim tugged Blair's hair. "I have a sharp knife somewhere around here."

"Over my dead body." Blair narrowed his eyes, getting to his feet, but keeping Jim's hand in his own. "Did you dial your hearing to zero? Shower. Now. You stink, man."

Jim was not going to sniff his armpits. He took a small detour to the fridge, Blair in tow, snagged a bottle of water and headed upstairs. He could do this, control his senses, but Blair was going along, just in case.

&&&&&&&

Staying dry was the plan, right up until Jim jerked him to the shower and growled, "Are you planning on showering in your clothes?"

Swallowing hard, Blair tried to glare, but he ended up choking off a whimper. "I'm fairly clean, you cave man!"

"Get in the shower, Chief." Jim adjusted the water, got extra towels, and made sure there was plenty of soap and shampoo. Blair watched, thinking furiously about professionalism and documenting and how he was not mesmerized by all that skin. He also managed to shed his clothes in a heap, wishing he had a few muscles like Jim's.

"You'd have never survived the Army." Jim reached out his hand after getting in the shower. His actions were much more polite than the mild insult behind his words. Blair bit his lower lip, naked and very unsure about this idea. It sounded good, but the thought that he needed to maintain professional distance kept jabbing through him. He was going to write papers about all this, maybe a dissertation, definitely a thesis or two, and... Jim waited patiently, hand still extended. He smiled. "You through thinking about it?"

It all boiled out of him. "I have a few concerns about my future." But he took Jim's hand and got in the shower, pushing his way until he was under the water. "What happens when you get used to this and don't want a hippie around anymore? I'll be living here! Well, until you toss me out, and while my current living quarters are less than stellar, it's still--"

Blair signed around the big hand over his mouth. Jim's eyes laughed, and he trailed his hand down, chasing water droplets. "Not throwing you out, Chief."

"Right." Blair couldn't keep the skepticism from his voice. Jim licked his lower lip, and Blair groaned, knowing that he was going to stay long after any papers were published. Not that anyone would believe him. "Damn it, man."

Jim laughed. "Yeah, we're in trouble."

"Glad you can laugh." Blair huffed, but forgot what he was thinking when Jim started soaping him. It felt good, and it smelled--. "Hey, wait." He snatched the soap from Jim's hand and stared down at it. "How do we know this won't give you a rash?"

They stared at the soap together, and then they both started looking over Jim's body. Blair's voice might've gone up an octave. "How does that not itch?"

"Turned down touch all the way into negative 15." Jim rinsed his hands thoroughly, nearly shoving Blair down to do it. Blair put the soap far away and tried to steal the water back. This was going to be a job, testing Jim to see what would set off an reaction, and what wouldn't. Jim slicked his hands down them both. "No more soap today."

"I agree!" Blair shoved him back under the water. "Rinse, man!"

"I did!" But Jim sluiced off again. Blair grabbed a towel and sniffed it. Even he could smell it, and he groaned. Jim shut off the water with a snap. "Tide with Bleach."

Blair shoved his hands through his hair. "Air dry. Do not touch those." He dried himself in three seconds flat. "Do you have a housekeeper?"

"I'm a cop!" Jim glared at him.

"I'm not doing your laundry!" Blair knew he was going to help, but they had to wash everything, and then it hit him. "This entire apartment is like a minefield. Oh God."

Jim blinked several times. "I'm doomed."

"Yes, it does seem that way," Blair said, working the sarcasm. He sighed deeply, grabbed up a couple of towels and went to strip the bed. They could at least get the bed done, but his first job would be to find a competent cleaning service. "Dial your nose up so we at least have some warning about what is going to make you break out. Worse than you are."

"Ew." Jim put his hand over his nose and then glared at his hand. "Gross."

For some reason, it was suddenly funny. Blair laughed, throwing a pillow at Jim. "You'll be naked the rest of your life!"

The pillow came roaring back, and Blair took it in the face. He nearly fell down, cursing Jim's expert aim. With a laugh, Jim shoved Blair onto the bed and crawled right over him. "Would you mind, Chief?"

Blair's thought processes stalled. When it kicked back in, he relaxed back flat and wrapped one leg tightly around Jim's. "Yes. I'd never get any laundry done!"

They both laughed, and Jim settled his body down further, wiggling into Blair's space. "I need to touch you everywhere."

"I got that." Blair ran his hands over all the skin he could touch, hoping the natural oils helped drive away the rashes. "Just no nibbling!"

"Can I lick?" Jim asked, right before he took a swipe along Blair's neck. Blair felt like every nerve ending in his body was standing at attention. He shivered, wanting more. Jim ground his hips down. "You feel so good."

A thousand questions, comments, and problems stirred around in Blair's brain, but all that came out of his mouth were groans and pleas for more. Later, he'd write an essay, detailing the senses Jim used and how he seemed to lose himself. Right now, all Blair could do was hope he ended up with enough brain cells left to make a pencil function.

It seemed Jim had been born knowing all the different erogenous zones on Blair's body, finding a couple that Blair hadn't known were there. Jim also took great delight in making Blair absolutely crazy, and sweat started to slick their bodies. Blair noticed that Jim liked that too.

"Man, you're killing me! No one likes sex this much!" Blair arched up helplessly as Jim drove his fingers deeper, setting off sparks along Blair's spine. Jim just grinned, watching and pinching Blair's nipples. Blair came so hard he saw stars, knowing Jim would lick him clean again.

"You feel so good," Jim said for the tenth time. He moved fast, thrusting hard enough to get inside Blair's stretched hole. Blair brought his knees up enough to hug Jim's body and make it easier to move. Jim shuddered, eyes drooping, and put his forehead onto Blair's chest. He held still, and Blair began to think he wasn't the only one who was broken.

A twitch of hips and they both groaned loud enough to be heard downstairs. Blair brushed the hair off his face and grabbed Jim around the neck, pulling. "Come on!"

"You got it, Chief." Jim put all those muscles to good use, and Blair held on for the ride of his life. It didn't take long, and Jim came with a shout, slumping down, squishing Blair into the mattress. Blair discovered that he didn't really mind, until a soft snore rumbled through Jim's lax body.

"You have got to be kidding me." Blair nudged and shoved until they were both comfortable in the stickiness. Jim never woke up, but he did grab hold and tuck Blair closer. Blair kissed him on the chin and relaxed into his own drowsiness. Something kept bugging him as his mind cleared, something he'd forgotten to do, but he'd figure it out when he woke up.

&&&&&&

Waking up with a start, Jim tried to accomplish two things at once: dial all his senses down and figure out where the thumping was coming from. He tilted his head, trying to ramp up his hearing.

"Oh, shit." He scrambled out from underneath a grumpy Blair, throwing on the first clothes he found and raced downstairs. The smell of sex lingered with him, and he hoped he was the only one who could smell it. Taking a deep breath, he hoped his senses behaved and opened the door to be assaulted by a familiar floral perfume and a small, angry woman.

"Where is Blair? What have you done with my son, you pig?" she screeched, making Jim clapped his hands over his ears. He stared at her in horror as she barged inside, slamming the door behind her. "Where? Don't lie!"

Claiming ignorance flew out the window, so Jim took a second to shove his hearing down again. He tried for a smile. "Blair is fine."

"Fine? Do you realize he went to jail for you? That he's probably going to prison? That he was abused mentally and physically while--."

"Naomi!" Blair nearly fell down the stairs, dressed in his own pants and one of Jim's shirts. His hair flew everywhere, and he had a bite mark on his neck. He looked like he'd been thoroughly fucked, and Jim nearly smirked at the sight. Then he remembered Blair's mom wanted to murder him and reined it in tight.

"Blair!" She grabbed him into a hug and then pulled back to glare. "I don't even believe this! I've been worried sick, and you've been--."

"Meditating! Helping Jim learn to meditate!" Blair practically shouted. "I can explain everything!"

Jim doubted it, but Blair did have a way with words. "I'm going to go cook breakfast. I'm starved." He left them to chatter at each other, hoping there was sausage in the freezer. There was no reason to be optimistic about anything. Blair was still in trouble with Simon. Blair's mom was suspicious and angry, and sooner or later, Jim was going to have to come clean about Peru and learn everything he could about sentinels.

"Hey, eggs," Jim said, fighting back a grin as Blair's voice rose and fell, running over his mother's. Yeah, no reason to look on the bright side at all. He nudged his hearing higher and focused on Blair's heartbeat. Okay, maybe one reason.

&&&&&&

The end


End file.
